


The Most Overrated Thing in All of Creation

by TheIneffableLily



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Consensual Sex, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley in Denial (Good Omens), Drinking, First Time, I have no idea how this happened, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, with terrible communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 14:17:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIneffableLily/pseuds/TheIneffableLily
Summary: Crowley has tried the sex thing before, but found it to be a waste of his time. Centuries later, Aziraphale thinks he'll be able to change his friend's mind.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 631
Collections: Good Omens Kink Meme, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Top Aziraphale Recs





	The Most Overrated Thing in All of Creation

**Author's Note:**

> A response to this prompt: https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/616.html?thread=1280360#cmt1280360
> 
> I tried to make it funny. Feedback is appreciated.

Humans made this out to be the best thing ever created by God, something so tempting and so satisfying that even the mention of its name brought shushing noises and a deep blush to their faces. Such an act was so inherently sinful and demonic (even though Crowley couldn't remember a single demon being involved in the design of the procreation method) that it should never be brought up among people who were good and decent. Sex was something to whisper about in shame, or else it caused an immense amount of discomfort among humans. It had been the cause of betrayals, wars, and death. It had even influenced the design of several torture devices that were still rather popular in certain circles of hell. It was, by all human accounts, a depraved and _hellish_ thing, abominated by God and all that is holy.

Naturally, Crowley had to give it a try. Call it professional curiosity. Or research. Or boredom because the 14th century was lagging along and he needed to do something interesting before he lost his damned mind. Trying something new, especially something as ill-reputed and God-angering as this, was just what he needed to shake things up and get his mind off of the plague, the war, and the fact that Aziraphale had been avoiding him since the Crusades.

He wasn't entirely sure what made a good lover among humans. Size was something that was often brought up, be that of breasts, hips, penises or wallets, but the thought of comparing specimens was rather daunting. He settled for a wealthy young man who had a reputation for seducing and deflowering virtuous women, and who showered more frequently than most humans did at the time.

Such young man had a preference for women, so Crowley fetched himself a gown and made an effort that men expected to find under a skirt, as it would lead to fewer questions. Besides, he recalled that the earlier blueprints of the female anatomy stated that the clitoris was designed to provide much longer orgasms, so that was an added bonus.

He entered high society as a mysterious heiress from a faraway land dressed in a scandalous red gown. He introduced himself as Lady Scarlet (dull, he was well aware, but the people of the 14th century were yet to discover what a cliché was). His suitor hadn't had eyes for any other woman from the moment Lady Scarlet entered his sumptuous ballroom. Crowley laughed a girly laugh at appropriate moments, showered his suitor with compliments and innuendos, and let him tease Lady Scarlet over her fashionable tinted glasses. The young man was a little vain and tiring, but personality wasn't really a factor in sexual attraction, Crowley was sure of it.

Before the last dance, the both of them sneaked out of the ballroom and up to the young lad's bedroom for what was bound to be a night of joyous passion that was sure to infuriate God herself, and maybe even a few stubborn angels. Not that that was relevant.

After fifteen minutes, Crowley stared at the ceiling of the now empty room, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

He had been kissed, that much he knew. Big manly hands had held him in place as a sloppy tongue wiggled in his mouth. He wasn't entirely sure if kissing was an integral part of sex, but he couldn't see how it improved the act in any way. He'd lain on the bed while his lover insisted on the kissing thing, his rough hands swiftly lifting skirts while undoing his own trousers. One thing had to be said about humans: they were incredibly good at multi-tasking when they were horny.

The man's member had entered him so quickly that it was as if he feared his lady friend might change her mind, even though Crowley had remained rather passive through the first few minutes. The man's cock was harder than Crowley had anticipated and his thrusts were rough, but he was too small to cause any real pain. There was definitely something interesting about being penetrated, though he couldn't quite decide if that was pleasurable or not.

There were grunts and huffs and the man's wine breath being blown onto his face. His facial expressions would have brought Crowley to a fit of laughter if he hadn't been trying to concentrate. After seven quick strokes, however, his lover was done. He collapsed on top of Crowley and panted a gentle gratitude. Then, he pulled his pants up and returned to the party.

Crowley played the events of the last ten minutes in his head, examining how he felt about all of it. He decided that he felt... sticky. Aaaand... no, sticky just about covered it.

“_Fucking_ 14th century,” he growled to the empty room, feeling cheated.

_This_ was the thing that had damned so many humans to hell? This _messy_ thing? Had he even done this properly? Had that little pinch he'd felt as his lover entered him been an orgasm? If so, it was massively overrated. Then again, he thought, human lives were so dreadful that he could only assume a little tingle between the legs was considered a massive improvement.

Chalking it all down to a disappointing experiment, Crowley snapped his fingers, vanishing the dress, the effort, and any bodily fluids that the young man might have left in or on his body. Lady Scarlet and her scandalous gown would not be returning to the ball and he left the manor in his regular clothes, his mind on a bottle of scotch and his heart on a sudden urge to get back at humanity for telling him the biggest lie ever told.

Sex was nothing but a colossal waste of time.

-

Aziraphale stared at him, waiting for something more. Crowley didn't know what else to say so he shrugged his shoulders.

“And that was it?” Aziraphale asked, still looking mildly surprised at the account. Or maybe he was just drunk, Crowley couldn't tell. “You didn't...” He trailed off.

Crowley swallowed the remains of the wine in his glass and shot back, “Didn't _what_?”

“Try it again?”

“What for?” Crowley asked, failing to see the point.

Now Aziraphale looked affronted. “What for? To find someone _better._ Some humans are remarkably good at it.”

Crowley scoffed. “Been around, have you?”

Aziraphale made an indignant sound at that and hid his embarrassment behind his seventh glass of wine. When he emerged, though, he said, “There is nothing wrong with being experimental.”

“Not at all. I've damned many people for being experimental.”

Crowley poured another glass. Was it his eighth or tenth? He'd lost count. They'd been celebrating Armagedidn't and the subsequent duping of their respective offices for two weeks now and the victory still tasted as sweet as it had on the night it'd happened. It wasn't as though someone was going to send an angry letter reprimanding them for overdrinking.

“My point is, men of the 14th century were not very skilled at it,” Aziraphale said. “I mean, even women were struggling to find the clitoris back then.”

“It's in step with the rest of the ineffable plan, isn't it?” Crowley smirked. “Put a bundle of nerves that can give you unimaginable pleasure at the reach of your fingers, but then fold the whole thing on itself so that no one can find it.”

“They figured it out eventually!”

“Men did?”

Aziraphale started to nod but thought better. “Well, women did.”

Crowley cackled.

“My point is,” Aziraphale said, then stopped again, momentarily lost.

“The sex thing,” Crowley reminded him.

“The sex thing,” he proceeded. “Yes! It's full of underwhelming experiences, but that shouldn't discourage experimentation.”

“I thought your office frowned on things such as lying with humans,” Crowley pointed out. “Isn't it abominable, or whatever?”

Aziraphale didn't seem to appreciate that word. “Abominable was thrown around a lot in those days. It's is simply... discouraged.”

“Thought that was a rule that was worth breaking, yes?”

“One should be aware of what sin is if one is to discourage it,” Aziraphale said, testily. Crowley wondered if that was a quote from one of his reports, trying to explain to the head office why he was fraternizing with humans. “Though it soon became clear that humans had blown the entire issue out of proportion.”

“I'll grant you that.”

“I thought _your _office welcomed such temptations.”

Crowley's head bobbed up and down, noncommittally. “Most demons find humans too repugnant to do anything hands-on. Given how messy they are, I quite agree.”

Aziraphale hummed in contemplation as he stared at his empty wine glass.

“I quite like the messy bits,” he muttered, taking another sip.

As the angel refilled their glasses, Crowley watched him. Curiosity got the best of him.

“You prefer the company of men, then?”

“I'm sorry?”

“Since you enjoy the 'messy bits'.”

Aziraphale blinked drunkenly at him, pouring a little too much in his distraction.

“Occasionally,” he admittedly.

“But you've pursued women as well.”

Another slow blink. “I don't pursue. I... welcome an opportunity if it presents itself to me.”

Crowley nodded. It didn't particularly surprise him that Aziraphale had tried the sex thing before. He'd been on earth just as long as Crowley had and he was bound to get curious. What surprised him was the fact that the angel had done it once and then kept on repeating the experience on a regular basis. Even if he had enjoyed intercourse (which Crowley doubted!), why keep on doing the same thing over and over again?

“Can't be that great,” Crowley argued, accepting his glass back and slumping back on Aziraphale's couch.

“Why is that?”

“I've seen you risk discorporation for a plate of crepes.”

“They were good crepes!” Aziraphale protested. “And you can't compare it to food. It's apples and oranges.”

Crowley's alcohol-infused brain made him frown. “Food is apples and oranges?”

“It's _different,”_ the angel explained, slowly. “It's more physical than food. It takes more movement. But, occasionally, when eternity gets a little uneventful, it's good to try new things.”

“What, in different positions?” Crowley asked, with a hint of mockery.

Aziraphale smiled with some excitement. “Oh, humans are deliciously creative with it. It was quite fun, originally, but they keep finding ways to improve it.”

Crowley thought about it. Aziraphale didn't seem to be pulling his leg or anything, but his attempt at having sex had been far from what the angel was describing.

“The 18th century,” Aziraphale recalled, raising a toast to it. “That was when they started to get the hang of it. Before, it was pleasant, you see. Especially in the early days. Lots of stamina those people had. It was frankly exhausting at times. But after the 18th century, they made it interesting.”

“Right,” Crowley said, with disdain. “They created paddles and whips, and then started pissing on each other. Very arousing.”

Aziraphale raised a hand. “I admit they went a little overboard-”

“Maybe you're just easy to please.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I've seen you fawn over ice lollies.”

“Yes, of course. Ice lollies are delicious.”

“They're frozen fruit juice, but that is beside the point,” Crowley quickly added when Aziraphale gasped loudly. The demon leaned over and pointed the wineglass as if it were an accusatory finger. “A mildly positive experience would cause you to say sex is the best thing ever created.”

“You can't be suggesting I'm lying.”

“I'm suggesting you'd find any tremor between the legs something remarkable.”

“That's preposterous.”

“No, that's _accurate. _Just like the ice lollies.”

Aziraphale huffed in frustration. “I wish I could just show you.”

Crowley smirked. “Why can't you?”

The angel froze immediately, taken aback by the bold suggestion. He clutched his wineglass and looked away, muttering, “We have had too much to drink.”

“We did, but the point still stands. Why can't you?”

Aziraphale didn't look at him. “I'm drunk, and you're drunk, and we're saying nonsense.”

Crowley emptied his wineglass again, suddenly understanding.

“Right,” he said, displeased. “You'll fuck half of humanity, but a foul demon is crossing the line.”

Aziraphale had his eyes on Crowley now, suddenly focused. “That is not it.”

“Depravity abound, great fun, but heaven forbid you bed a-”

“You're my friend!” said the angel, exasperated. “And-and we are _very_ intoxicated, and you don't even want to do it. You just want to prove a point. _And,_ not that it's relevant, but it wasn't _half_ of humanity.”

“A third then.”

Aziraphale huffed but didn't correct him.

Crowley considered the wine in his glass but put it down instead of drinking it.

“As far as I've been told,” he said, “there are far worse reasons to do it than to prove a point.”

Aziraphale looked at him, unconvinced but listening.

“Besides, you _love_ being right. You can't say there isn't a part of you who doesn't want to show me just how right you are.” He flashed another smirk at the angel. “Of course, you're not, your opinion is misinformed and stupid, but you want to prove me wrong.”

“I _could _prove you wrong,” Aziraphale considered, wheels turning in his head.

Crowley smiled. For such a self-righteous bastard, Aziraphale was so easy to tempt at times.

The angel looked at him. Crowley raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to come around.

“Sober up.”

“Ugh, what for?”

“We're not doing this drunk. Sober up.”

Crowley rolled his eyes but complied as Aziraphale did the same, the alcohol leaving their systems in a wave of weariness and unpleasantness, leaving them a little lightheaded in the aftermath. As things came into focus, Crowley could see a hint of shame on the angel's face for making such a bold suggestion. Truth be told, Crowley was a little embarrassed as well, but he wasn't about to let it show. And like heaven he was going to let Aziraphale have the last word.

“Better?” he asked, not without a hint of impatience.

The angel nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” Crowley shot to his feet and started undoing his belt. “Which do you want? You can have the messy one since you're so fond of it-”

Aziraphale raised an urgent hand and averted his eyes. “We're not doing that!”

“What- Did I just sober up _for_ _nothing_?” Crowley all but shouted.

“I mean we're not having sex,” Aziraphale explained. “Not in the... biblical sense. I'm just going to show you how it works. Sit down.”

Crowley plopped back on the couch, belt buckle undone, still feeling a frustrated that Aziraphale couldn't just get this over with. What was even the point?

From his chair, the angel watched Crowley through freshly sobered eyes, examining him. Cautiously, he got up, adjusted his vest, then sat beside Crowley on the couch.

Crowley's eyebrows shot up, demanding, “And now wha- what are you doing?”

Crowley immediately leaned back when Aziraphale leaned forward, yellow eyes suddenly alarmed.

“I was going to kiss you,” Aziraphale explained.

“Why? The sex parts are below the neck.”

“I mean-”

“And the kissing thing is just disgusting. Do we have to go through that?”

Aziraphale blinked at him. “No, not if you don't like it. I could just kiss your neck.”

“Why?”

“It helps.”

“How?”

“It- it just _does_. Can I just...?”

He looked flustered. Crowley assumed most of his lovers didn't ask so many questions. Besides, the sooner he allowed the angel to get on his doomed mission, the sooner Crowley could gloat. He loved to gloat. He tilted his head to the right, exposing his neck.

Centuries ago, his lover had held him roughly by the waist, then shoved a wet tongue in his mouth unceremoniously, then left a trail of spit down his jaw and neck that had been more distracting than arousing. Of the entire thing, that had been the part Crowley had disliked the most.

This, though, was a different experience that Crowley had to take in slowly. First, there was the warm breath coming from the angel's mouth and hitting his skin. Then, the brush of his lips, as soft as a feather, as they took in the length of his neck from shoulder to ear, a touch that was almost nothing but that still carried the promise of something good. Finally, where Crowley's jaw met his neck, Aziraphale planted a gentle kiss, then pecked more kisses up and down his neck.

Crowley's eyes fell shut. This wasn't unpleasant, yes, fine, he would give Aziraphale that much. As the angel's lips fluttered over his skin, he could _maybe_ see why one would want to do this if one was feeling particularly bored, but otherwise, he wasn't impressed.

Aziraphale's voice tickled his ear when he said, “How does that feel?”

“Pointless,” Crowley said, too stubborn to give him a victory, however small, that early in the game.

“Hm...” Aziraphale said, and though Crowley couldn't see his face, he could still picture him frowning in confusion. “That usually gets people squirming.”

“People are very easy to- _Ew! No!_”

Crowley jumped away from Aziraphale's tongue, already rubbing his neck roughly with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Sorry, Crowley, I didn't-”

“What is it with you lot and saliva?! Why do you have to _slobber_ all over people when you're doing this?!”

“Sorry, not everyone enjoys this-”

“Yeah, no shit!”

“Let me- will you let me try something else?”

Crowley shot him angry yellow eyes, but grumbled, “_Fine_.”

Aziraphale brushed his hair gently, soothingly, which Crowley assumed was more an act of affection than a sexual thing, but he could be wrong.

The angel went back to kissing his neck, this time refraining from using his tongue. After a moment, when Crowley began to feel his anger leaving him, he felt Aziraphale's teeth scrape the sensitive skin, causing a shiver down Crowley's spine. This was... preferable.

Aziraphale's hand landed on the inside of his thigh, stroking him without ever making an attempt to push his pants down.

“You can do this faster,” he suggested, though it wasn't a protest.

“I have found that these things are better when not done in a hurry,” Aziraphale said, moving his hand up so that he could unbutton Crowley's vest and shirt. “That boy should've taken his time. So many things he could have done-”

He slipped a hand inside the unbuttoned shirt.

Crowley startled and Aziraphale retrieved his hand.

“I'm sorry, my dear. Are you ticklish?”

“No!” Crowley lied, making sure that his tone reflected just how much the question offended him. “Your fucking hands are cold.”

“Oh! Sorry.”

Aziraphale rubbed his fingers together and, the next time he touched his stomach, it was warm and cautious, a reassuring palm instead of teasing fingertips. He rubbed circles on his skin which, combined with the nibbling, was beginning to brew something warm in the pit of Crowley's stomach.

“You're still stalling,” he said, still trying to get the upper hand.

He felt the lips on his neck curling into a smile.

“Not stalling,” Aziraphale said. “I'll show you.”

He tried to slide his hand from Crowley's stomach to between his legs but found his jeans to be too tight. He popped the button open, then pulled the zipper down.

“Just miracle the whole thing away,” Crowley told him.

“Will you fight me on everything I try?”

He tugged the pants down just enough to allow for access, then led a warm hand from Crowley's knee to the delicate effort now lying between his legs.

“Here, see?” said the angel, as a single finger pried his lips open and slipped inside just enough to make Crowley curl his toes and bite his tongue in an effort to remain quiet. “See how wet it is? That is why you should take your time.”

“Doesn't mean I enjoy it,” he said, stubbornly, though he did, a lot more than he was willing to let show.

“No, not necessarily. You stimulate certain spots on the body, you are bound to get a reaction. But it makes it easier.”

“How?”

“Well, it's lubrication, for starters. Makes penetration easier, if you like that sort of thing. It also just makes things more pleasurable.”

He moved his wet finger up and down his entrance, teasing him. Crowley fought the urge to spread his legs apart. Hell would freeze over before he admitted Aziraphale was right; however, he had to admit (at least to himself) that this was a definite improvement on his first attempt. If the angel pushed a finger inside of him now, he might have enjoyed it better than his previous lover's less than impressive cock. In fact, a part of him was curious about how that would feel.

“Does it hurt?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shook his head from side to side. “Doesn't hurt. It's... fine, I suppose.”

“Oh dear. Fine won't do.” He pulled his jeans further down and told asked him gently, “Spread your legs for me.”

Crowley hesitated but parted his knees a few inches more.

“Just a little more...” Aziraphale pulled his wet fingers away and pried his knees apart, leaving Crowley's pussy fully exposed. Crowley felt the inside of it contracting, then letting go, wet lips turning cold in the absence of touch. He watched Aziraphale's fingers make their way back to him to tease the entrance again for a few seconds. Then, his index finger moved up slightly, looking for the right spot.

Crowley had a vague idea of where he was going, but he didn't know what to expect. Still, he gritted his teeth just in case – and thank hell he did because a light tap of Aziraphale's finger over that small bundle of nerves would have drawn a very humiliating sound out of him hadn't he prepared for it.

“There,” Aziraphale said, circling the little spot slowly as his lips moved from his neck to his throat he was sucking on the skin now and Crowley could feel small traces of saliva being left behind but found that he didn't mind. “Isn't that good? I love it when other people do that for me.”

Crowley's hands clutched the back of the couch and his breath got caught in his throat. Aziraphale wasn't paying attention to him, though.

“You don't need anyone to do this for you, of course,” he continued. “You can do this yourself. I find it quite relaxing. It's all in the pressure: not too harshly, but not too gently either. Do you enjoy it?”

Aziraphale looked at him.

Crowley met his eyes and schooled his expression into something neutral.

_Not a sound_, he snarled at himself. _Not a sound or you'll never hear the end of it._

“It's not terrible,” Crowley said.

“Is that all?” Aziraphale said, disappointed as he continued to rub his clitoris. “Don't you feel anything?”

Crowley felt his toes curling inside his shoes. That simple touch was making something grow inside of him and it felt about to explode at any moment.

“How curious,” Aziraphale mused, eyes still on him, scrutinizing his face, looking for any hint of pleasure. “Perhaps if I did it a little faster...”

Crowley clutched his insides and tried to focus on anything that wasn't the angel's finger, tracing circles round and round, picking up the pace and making him feel as if he were about to take flight.

Oh no.

Oh _fuck._

He was close. He had no idea of what, but Crowley knew he was about to be tossed beyond the point of no return as the pressure increased. It was becoming more and more difficult not to rock his hips to the rhythm of that persistent finger, not to sigh with pleasure as the angel stroked him, not to beg and plead for him to go on, to go faster, to let him cross that barrier he'd never cared to cross before.

Then, blessedly, Aziraphale took his eyes away for a moment to look between his legs, muttering something about how maybe he wasn't doing it right and Crowley-

Crowley pressed his lips together and tossed his head back, his entire body cornered by Aziraphale's touch as the pleasure built so strong that there was nowhere else to go. It flowed over the edges of his being, spreading warm and gentle from his head to his toes.

This had to be a miracle. A body, it didn't matter how celestial, could not be meant for such things. This was what supernovas were made of: an intense burst of color and energy and beauty, too bright for human eyes. Yet, it was all contained inside of him, dancing on the tip of the angel's finger, forcing him into the light as he bit his lips and hoped to God and Satan that Aziraphale hadn't noticed his indiscretion.

As his head cleared and he allowed himself to breathe, he heard the angel babbling to himself, still stroking his clitoris through the slight tremors he was barely able to contain.

“...and I wouldn't want you to be discouraged, that is all.”

“What?” he asked, dizzy.

Aziraphale eyed him quickly, but then looked back between his legs, insistently stroking him. He felt more sensitive now, but he resisted the urge to pull his legs shut.

“Just because it's not as pleasurable as I promised it would be, you shouldn't be discouraged,” Aziraphale said, not seeing how Crowley's eyes were already rolling back as he came dangerously close to the edge again.

_Just one more... please, just one more and I'll-_

Aziraphale pulled his hand away, defeated.

“No, it's not working.”

“I...” Crowley cleared his throat. “I told you. Pointless. Waste of time.”

“Would you allow me to use my mouth?”

Crowley stared at him.

Aziraphale looked apologetic.

“I don't want to be stubborn, but it's usually more effective than-”

“I mean, I- I would hate for you to be under the impression you might still be right,” Crowley said, urgently. “I mean, I-I fail to see the point, of course, but anything to prove you wrong. If you _have _to try it, then you _have _to try it. Pointlessly.”

Aziraphale blinked at him and said, “If you're willing to-”

“Yes.”

“You can lie back, then.”

Crowley did as he was told, showing very little resistance in the face of his own curiosity.

Aziraphale freed him of his jeans and shoes and pushed his shirt open. With a blush to his cheeks, the angel said, “You do look rather beautiful.”

“Don't get sappy, Angel.”

“Not sappy,” he said, leaning forward to kiss his chest. When he started teasing a nipple with his lips, Crowley let a small gasp escape his lips. Aziraphale smiled. “Now, that is much more promising.”

Crowley watched as his lover made his way down his chest and belly, aiming for the wetness between his legs. When he began to lick it – rather effectively, one might add – he made the decision to miracle his voice away.

Just a couple of minutes. Just a couple of minutes of this, just to get off the edge, and then he'd declare his own victory and never think about this sex thing again.

-

To say that Aziraphale was disappointed would have been an understatement. He had lied with enough humans to believe that he had become rather skilled at this, or so he'd been told over the centuries. That almost complete lack of reaction from Crowley had been unexpected and, if he were to be honest, it had hurt his pride a little bit.

He hadn't been unresponsive. Aziraphale had heard soft sighs and felt the way his skin shivered against his lips. He knew there was _something_ there, a dormant potential that he had tried to awaken. However, after pleasuring Crowley for almost an hour with hardly any breaks for breaths, Crowley had sat up and pushed him away, all but shouting “_Enoughenoughenough_!”

Heavens, his voice was hoarse and he sounded exhausted, as though he'd spent the last hour shouting instead of sighing softly.

Aziraphale shushed him as Crowley panted through tears of exhaustion.

“Are you alright?”

Crowley continued to breathe heavily, but he lied back on the couch and managed to say, “Too much.”

He had gone from placid to overstimulated in the blink of an eye. Poor thing. Perhaps his body worked differently from that of a human. Perhaps he had to build him up more gently.

“And... you felt nothing? Not even a little?”

Crowley swallowed hard and found his voice again. “Maybe a tingle.”

Oh, he was never going to hear the end of it. Crowley was going to insist sex was the most overrated thing in all of creation until the sun exploded.

“Well, I am glad that you let me try it.”

Crowley lifted his head to look at him. “I'm sorry, what?”

“It was pointless and, yes, I know. You _told me so_.” Aziraphale winced. “I'm sorry it was unpleasant towards the end, but I promise not to bring this up again.”

In a heartbeat, Crowley had scrambled back to sit straight on the couch.

“Angel, angel, angel,” he said, urgently. “Let's not be defeatists _just yet_.”

“I'm... sorry?”

“I'm sure there's more to try.”

Aziraphale watched him. “You mean... I at least made you curious?”

Crowley struggled with himself for a moment, then said, “Sure, if that works- I mean, yes. Curious. I am curious. You should satisfy my curiosity. In fact, you should satisfy my curiosity several times over. And twice on sundays.”


End file.
